She's Not Happy
by kenxepe
Summary: HAPPY VALENTINES, EVERYONE! As a hit and run serial killer terrorizes the city, Superman is too distracted with relationship problems. And he goes to his best friend, Batman for advice.


She's Not Happy

by

Rhonnel Ferry

To my wife

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any DC comics characters, and I make no money from this fan fiction.

#

Prologue:

A few years ago, for one reason or another, my godly powers started to wane. Some of my more fantastic abilities, like flight, heat vision, and freeze breath vanished altogether. Curiously, as much as I miss flying, I felt like an enormous weight was taken off my shoulders. It seemed like the most appropriate time to retire from the Justice League.

Oh, I wasn't worried about alien invasions or evil inter-dimensional beings. Not with younger superheroes, like my cousin Kara or Dick, more than eager for their turn in the spotlight. No, the multi-verse is in good hands.

So I left the Watchtower, and became a normal Kansas citizen, so that I can finally start to appreciate what it is I've been fighting for all this time.

A few years later, Diana, the super-heroine known as Wonder Woman, retired from the League also, but continued in her role as ambassador of Themyscira, home of the Amazons. We got married, then settled in Smallville.

And she is not happy.

#

"Madder Max has struck again," I tell my wife, as I read the news from today's paper. "Several bystanders witnessed his trademark, modified black muscle car run over a crossing guard. Thank God, none of the school children got hurt. Crossing guard didn't make it though."

She looks up at me from her smartphone. She had recently discovered smartphones, and Facebook. And now that's all she ever does. Her face is expressionless. Then her eyes drift back to the phone.

"Well, this is awesome," I haltingly say of today's breakfast. She made vanilla Belgian waffles. "You're really getting good at...uhm...Kansas...food."

This time, she doesn't even bother to look up. We finish the rest of breakfast in silence. I drink my orange juice, wipe my lips with a napkin, then clear the table.

After washing the dishes, I go back to the table. She hasn't moved from her chair.

"Well, I'm off to do my chores," I tell her, as I wipe my hands dry on a table napkin, "You know, farm stuff...and things..."

Nothing.

I walk over, bend down, give her a peck on the cheek.

On my way out the door, I call back, "Oh, you're meeting Talia later, right? Tell her I said Hi."

She nods quietly without taking her eyes off the phone's screen.

"Right," I say, then walk out the door.

#

"She's not happy," I tell Bruce, my best friend.

We're at out usual table at a quaint, little place called SuperHero Cafe. I'm drinking beer in a bottle. He's having whiskey in a glass. Neither of us used to drink during our Superhero heydays. But things change. And not always for the better.

"She's a person, Clark," he tells me surly. Well, actually he always talks surly. It's normal for him. "She has good days and bad days just like everybody else."

"Well, she's having a long string of bad days." I take a short sip of beer. "She doesn't laugh at my lame jokes anymore. Forget laughing. I don't think I've seen her smile in a while. Two days ago, when I woke up, I accidentally smashed the alarm clock on our bedside table-"

"Again?"

"Yea. News flash. That whole bungling reporter thing is not an act." Another sip. "Anyway, I say, 'Oops,' and she doesn't laugh or get angry. She just stares at the broken clock quietly, then looks away."

"Hmm... The silent treatment. You should consider yourself lucky that she's not a nagger." Then he takes a swig of his whiskey.

I noted the angry stress on the word 'nagger'.

"Things aren't OK with you and Talia?", I ask him gently.

"I think she's cheating on me with that gay best friend of hers."

"Bruce, that's ridiculous."

"What makes you say that?"

"Uhm...because, like you said, he's gay. Besides, don't you have that thing with Selina?"

He shakes his finger at me, as he takes another swig.

"That doesn't count as cheating," he explains, putting the empty glass down. "Selina's a nympho. She sleeps with everybody. Cobblepot, Dent, Isley,... That's like saying I'm cheating by breathing the same oxygen as everybody else."

"Bruce, that's mean. You know, I actually feel sorry for her. I think she should get help. Like AA or something."

"AA is for alcoholics, Clark."

"Oh. Where do sex addicts go?"

"My bedroom!"

He guffaws, and slaps the table hard with his palm, upsetting several of the patrons. I nod at them apologetically.

"You know what you should do?" Bruce begins, slurring his words a little. "If you really want to find out what's up with your wife, you should listen in on her when she's talking to her friends on the phone. You still have that super hearing, right?"

"A little. Do you mean spy on my own wife?!"

"Yea. I do it all the time."

"You spy on Talia?!"

"Sure. I use those...bat bugs. Or bat inspired...listening devices. I don't remember what I call those things."

"Bruce, that's invasion of privacy."

"Oh, please. Men hire detectives to follow their wives all the time. And I'm not the world's greatest detective for nothing."

He signals the waiter for a refill. And honestly, right now, my best friend looks more like that psycho, Patrick Bateman than genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Bruce Wayne.

"Hey, I feel like coffee," I suggest. "Lemme go order us a couple-"

"What are you saying, Kent? That I can't hold my drunk?!" He momentarily looks confused. "I-I mean drink. You think I can't hold my drink?!" he corrects himself angrily. "Why? Huh?! Because I don't have your super sobriety?! After all this time, haven't I proven that I don't need super powers to keep up with you?!"

I let him have a couple of more glasses, then I walk him outside.

It's snowing a little. The cold never bothers me much, even with my powers significantly decreased, but Bruce is visibly shaking, and he wraps his long, thick coat tighter around himself. I pretend not to notice, and hail a cab for him. I don't bother calling his butler, Alfred. Alfred's much older now, and these are slippery streets to drive in.

"I wouldn't be a cheater if Diana had chosen me," Bruce mumbles, staring at the cracked pavement under his shoes. "I'm rich, I'm mysterious, I'm exciting... I'm a warrior like she is. You're no warrior, Kent. Pacifist, mama's boy, boring, religious, self-righteous loser. Why the hell did she choose you over me?"

"I don't know, Bruce. I really don't know," I answer truthfully. I don't hold what he said against him. I know this is just the alcohol talking.

"I'm better than you," he continues, looking at me with tired, red eyes. "I'm the one man who beat you."

"Yea, alongside Muhammad Ali, and Kumar from White Castle. My win record really isn't much to speak of, Bruce."

As I help him into the cab, he changes.

"I'm sorry, Clark," he tells me. "You're my best friend in the whole world, and I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yea, I know that," I answer, bending down at the cab window.

"Do you love me, Clark?"

"You know I do, Bruce. We'll talk tomorrow, OK?"

"OK."

He bends his head down, and looks as if he may have dozed off, as the cab drives away. I'm not even worried for him. If the cab driver tries to rob him, Bruce's fighting instincts will naturally kick in. If anything, I'm more worried for the cab driver. I hope, for his sake, he doesn't decide that a sleeping billionaire in the backseat is an easy target.

#

This used to be a happy time of the year. Couples enjoying a romantic walk under the snow. Kids building snow men, or making mini snow angels on the ground with their short arms and short legs.

But not tonight. Tonight the streets are empty. Tonight the people are afraid. A hit and run serial killer is to blame. The cops can only do so much. They've tried using spike strips, or helicopters. But this Madder Max is too slippery. Indeed, some psychologists on TV surmised that he may even enjoy the car chases. Yet it's not this lunatic's powerful vehicle, nor his impressive driving skills, that has helped him to elude capture. It's his utter disregard for human life. In a high-speed car chase, cops still have to be careful not to harm any innocent civilians. Madder Max doesn't care who he runs over, as long as someone gets run over.

Walking the quiet, desolate streets on my way home, I happen upon Diana and Talia (Bruce's wife, and daughter of international criminal mastermind, Ra's al Ghul), as they exit a local confectionery store. And I find myself wondering if this is purely by accident, divine intervention, or I subconsciously sought my wife to spy on her.

They haven't seen me. I'm actually quite far away. Can't see through walls anymore, but my eyesight is still really really good.

I start to walk away when I hear Bruce's voice in my head.

"Use your super hearing," the ghostly voice moans. And the temptation overpowers my guilt.

"I think Bruce is cheating on me with that slut, Selina," Talia hisses.

"Selina?!" Diana exclaims. "Oh, gods. That trollop makes sexual advances to everyone. She's propositioned me and Kal. Both separately and for a threesome."

It is both surprising and pleasant to hear Diana's voice again. Haven't heard it in a while. Hearing her call me by my birth name, like she always does, fills me with a warmth that washes away a little of the guilt I'm feeling.

"Yes, but you never have to worry about your husband," Talia tells her. "His moral fiber is beyond reproach. I had to marry a playboy. I guess I get what I deserve. I just always thought that I would be able to change him, you know?"

"I wish I could change Kal a little," Diana admits sadly.

"You do?!"

Diana hesitates, but then sighs and says, "He's too content. About everything! I just wish he wanted more for himself! I just...I just know he can become much more than he is."

I suddenly feel a sharp pain somewhere in my chest.

Talia looks at her like she's crazy. "Diana, you married Superman. What more is there?"

Diana sighs again. "I know it sounds ridiculous. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't want to tell him. It might hurt his feelings."

"You could do what I do. Blow up another prisoner transport vehicle to get his attention."

"Another-?! Wait a minute. Two weeks ago. That was you?"

"What? They were all bad women. Besides, nobody died. Some glory hound pretty boy in a unitard saved everybody," Talia informs her disappointedly.

"Nightwing nearly died saving those people! He suffered second-degree burns all over his right arm!"

"Oh, was that Nightwing?! Oh, I like him. So glad he didn't die or anything."

Just then, I hear a screech and a roar from somewhere behind me. And before I could turn around, something strikes my legs from under me! I crash hard into a windshield, and then I am catapulted into the air. After a couple of dizzying somersaults, I painfully fall back down the street.

#

Dazed, I look up just in time to see a black muscle car speeding away.

"It's him," I grunt.

I force myself up. I don't know how badly injured I am, and I don't care right now. I'll worry about it later. After I catch this guy. I may not be as fast as the Flash, but I can certainly keep up with a car moving more than 200 miles per hour.

I unzip my red jacket, and toss it away. I no longer wear my Kryptonian suit underneath, but there is still a red, black, and yellow version of the coat of arms of the House of El proudly emblazoned on my blue shirt's chest.

I run. And in mere seconds I am speeding right next to him. The driver turns his head, and I see the shock in his young face when he sees me keeping up with him on foot.

There's probably shock in my face, too. Jesus, Madder Max is just a kid!

"Pull over!" I yell, pointing a finger at him.

He responds by sideswiping me. I get launched into a brick wall.

A small, curious crowd starts to gather around me. Except for myself, I'm glad nobody else got hurt. But if I'm to keep it that way, I have to stop this kid right now!

I get back up, and chase Madder Max up a dangerous, narrow, zig zag road.

No more warnings. As soon as I catch up to him, I ram the side of his car with my shoulder! But I overdo it. (Clumsy, remember?) And his car crashes right through the bridge railing!

"Oh, no..." I whisper to myself.

With my right hand, I quickly grab hold of his rear bumper, as the vehicle precariously starts sliding down the side of a steep cliff! I try to claw at the ground with my other hand, but the earth is too muddy to support us!

If we fall, at this height, I still might survive it. I'd be more confident if it was morning, where the sunlight can heal my injuries. But this kid? He's got no chance at all.

"Kid!" I scream at him. "Get out! Get out of the car! Carefully work your way up to me!"

He doesn't answer. From the rear windshield, I can see him unconscious and slumped against the steering wheel.

God, why didn't he wear a helmet?! God, why did I have to hit the car so hard?!

In some deep, dark recess of my mind, I hear a voice tell me to just let go, and save myself. The little brat's a murderer, and deserves to die anyway.

I quickly push the thought away. Why? BECAUSE I'M STILL SUPERMAN!

Just when I almost lose my grip of the muddy ground, a golden lasso loops around my left wrist! I look up, and see my wife, holding tightly on the other end of the rope, her boots firmly planted on the road. With all her impressive strength, she manages to drag me and Madder Max safely back into the street.

I collapse and gasp for air. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear police sirens.

#

A loud ringing startles me from sleep, and I smash the new alarm clock on my bedside table with my palm.

"Dammit!" I mutter.

And the alarm clock was innocent, too. My phone is the real culprit. I answer it, as I lazily sit on the edge of my bed.

"Hello?"

"Clark?" Bruce replies, now sounding all serious and sober. "Are you alright?"

"Yea, I'm fine. Thanks," I croak. Sleepiness still very evident in my voice. "How's Dick?"

"He's good. Alfred says there wont even be any scars." Then he changes the subject. "Clark, about the things I said last night-"

"Bruce, you don't have to-"

"Yes, I do. Diana loves you. That's the only reason she needs. I would never try to take her from you."

I smile in response. But we're not using video, so he couldn't see anyway.

Later he adds, "But I could if I wanted."

"Of course you could, Bruce."

"Do you know why?"

"Because you're Batman?"

"BECAUSE I'M BATMAN!"

We share a laugh, then say goodbye. I look at my reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. I'm dressed in nothing but red boxers. And I couldn't help but chuckle at how I used to wear those outside my costume.

I step out of the bedroom, and find Diana on the couch, typing in her phone, of course.

She looks up from the phone and says, "Let's go for a walk."

#

It's still snowing a little this morning. It isn't as empty either, now that Madder Max is off the streets. Oh, folks are still cautious. Understandably, of course. But you can see a few people scattered here and there, enjoying the day, and the cool air. If you listen hard enough, you can even hear some children laughing and playing somewhere.

Diana and I are strolling on the sidewalk. I have an arm over her shoulders. She has her arm wrapped around my waist. She looks up at me and smiles. And it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my entire life. Then she cranes upward, and we kiss.

I don't know what brought about the change in her mood. Maybe seeing me in action again reminded her of the man she fell in love with. Maybe it was that talk she had with Talia. Heck, maybe it's the weather. It doesn't matter. You know why?

Because we're just people. We have good days and bad days just like everybody else. And there's no one I would rather spend the rest of my days with.

END


End file.
